John Hickson: The Wedding Dead
by NexusDarkworldProductions
Summary: John Hickson is hired to deal with a ghost at an abandoned church, but is in for far more than he expected, particularly when having to work with Orcsan around. (minor crossover and references to Grey Faction novels/comics.) Oneshot.


**THE WEDDING DEAD**

 _By NexusDarkworld Productions_

 _Hickson the Exorcist x Grey Faction crossover (minor crossover)_

 _\- Oneshot -_

The pale light of the moon filtered erratically through the black clouds on a warm summer night, accompanied by a smattering of stars and a faint wind. On this night, in a particular sleepy village on the boundaries of the quaintly named Devils Dyke, was a bald headed man covered in tattoos which seemed to faintly glow blue in the dim light, was moving quietly, footsteps soft, as he approached the haunted church.

His name was John Hickson, but preferred to be called by his surname only. Hickson's purpose on this night was to investigate the supposed haunting and if needed, deal with the entity.

The city council had sent one of their staff to his little occult supplies store to hire him for his exorcist skills. Such requests came his way upon occasion. In order to create products that would appeal to fans of the occult, he had researched to a ridiculous extent and ended up creating products that actually worked on spirits, monsters, and demonic beings. Since then his scam turned actual business had attracted customers from both sides and he found himself frequently in dangerous situations.

But that's what his magical tattoos were for. The ink was blessed and infused with magic and holy power, and the tattoos themselves were full of micro magic seals to protect and heal him from supernatural threats. Because of this he could even meet the Devil and do business safely, and had on a few occasions.

According the information he was given, any man that entered the church would be pursued by a floating skeleton, consisting of only a skull and torso. Though there had been numerous injuries, they seemed to be rather a result of the builders, staff, and occasional visitors tripping and falling as they tried to outrun the spirit. It wasn't likely a threat, but they wanted it gone. So here he was, wasting away a perfectly good evening.

Using his extra senses, he searched for any magic or demonic presence. Of course as he was in a graveyard there were the shadowy whispers of the long death, vague remnants that held no power or consciousness. Deeper within the church however was a much stronger remnant with an obsessive grudge keeping it in this world and capable of independent action. Enough to be called a ghost, but he did not sense an inherent evil, despite the strength of the grudge that emanated from the ghost. That was reassuring at least. Hickson was a support and supply kind of guy. He had his occasional assistant Mark for crude applications of violence. But he was doing a book tour in the states so he had to do it himself.

Keeping low to avoid being spotted and suppressing his magic to not give away his position, he moved on hurried steps towards the church's gigantic wooden doors, leaning his shoulder against it, he pushed hard against it and after minutes of grunting, the door grudgingly opened with a painfully loud screech of rusty hinges and scrapping wood. Inside it was dark and musty, a pale cast of light from the moon was the only lighting. Glancing about he began to explore the church.

"Jeez, they really let this place go to the dumps," Hickson noted, as he regarded the dusty, abandoned building, absently making the sign of the cross as he stepped through the threshold, a long standing habit from when religion was more prevalent in society.

He slowly walked down the long corridor, each side littered with pamphlets, though most were scattered on the floor. The floors themselves were thick with dust, Hickson brought a cloth to his face to stem any coughing that would occur. The corridor opened out into the alter and the mass of pews for the congregation. The pews were mostly rotted, and many were scattered about the room, eyes flickering about, he spotted discarded building equipment and hard hats, given the mess, the last contractors to repair the church had left in a heck of a hurry.

As most of the sightings had taken place here, Hickson set up several tiny cameras to record any possible sightings, just in case he failed to find it tonight. He snorted at the thought, a ghost wouldn't prove difficult. He had saved the world on a few occasions for pity's sake.

Time to explore then, swiftly making his way through the many rooms within the building, unfortunately hours later, and heavily frustrated at being unable to locate his quarry within the church or the surrounding structures and cemetery, Hickson returned to the once alleyway, and its many scattered pews, where he had set up the cameras, as this was where most of the sightings had occurred. Fortunately, if it had returned while he searched elsewhere, the recordings were instantly uploaded and sent wirelessly to his pc.

"What a bloody waste of time," he muttered angrily, it seemed he would need to set up a series of traps drag the ghost out of hiding and contain it, so that he could purify it, or straight up banish it to the other side, should it prove resistant to complying. Sadly he lacked the brushes, mana rich ink, and the designs for the seals, which he kept in books at his shop. He couldn't fight what wasn't there to attack and defend against.

"Well I better come back tomorrow then..." He sighed in defeat, far too frustrated to make a return visit for the needed equipment.

As he walked down the aisle, Hickson paused mid-step as a cold chill ran down his spine. It was clear to feel that the obsession that formed the spirit had converged on his position, turning with forced calm, he bit back a startled shriek as the empty sockets of a skull stared into his eyes, mere inches apart from his own, he was hit with a strong stench of decay, making his eyes water. Why did it stink? It was supposed to be a ghost.

As the stare down between the two continued, put off, Hickson opened his mouth to speak to the ghost, but leapt back as the skeletal ghost suddenly lunged at him with its head. Now with some distance between them, he could make out the ghost's form in full, oddly it was just a skeleton, though missing the arms and legs, it hovered ominously before him. It seemed a strange choice of form to choose, but he soon realised as his magic tattoos analysed the being before him and sent the results directly into his brain, that the ghost had wrapped itself around the remains of an actual person to wear its form.

"Well that's interesting, didn't know ghosts could do stuff like that," Hickson remarked, slowing moving further away, knowing that a purification/banishment spell took several seconds to activate, best not to be in range. His tattoos began to glow.

"Where are you going?" The skeleton enquired, though its mouth didn't mouth, lacking the ligaments and muscles. The voice was warped and distorted, but it was unmistakably the voice of a young woman.

"What do you mean?" Hickson replied, his palms crackling with purifying magic.

"You are not allowed to go, we haven't finished yet." The ghost informed him, before suddenly flying towards him, who in response blasted it with magic, taking the form of a blinding blue light, upon contact, there was a shriek, a small detonation, scattering dust, smoke, and debris in every direction.

Hickson coughed heavily from the thick dust, close to retching, cupping his hands over his mouth he tried to avoid breathing in anymore as the dust finally began to settle, he was stunned to see that the skeletal ghost was unharmed. "Impossible..." That spell was capable of blowing a hole in even powerful demons, a ghost should be no trouble. It would destroy anything with even the slightest amount of evil intent, how could a ghost created by such a strong obsession that it even pregnated their surroundings be immune to his unique magic? "It even attacked me...What is going on?"

"Don't leave, come here," the ghost ordered, its presence or rather obsession growing even stronger. Distinctly puzzled and unsettled by this unexpected situation, Hickson, much like the spooked workers, turned and ran as fast as could, even vaulting the pews and overturned building equipment without slowing pace.

The skeletal ghost followed in hot pursuit. Trying to hold back a childish sounding scream, Hickson dived through the archway, hoping the ghost couldn't leave the confines of the church, the others haunted had been unbothered by it at that point. Stumbling to his feet, he glanced back, only to smashed into by the ghost's ribcage with surprising force, sending them both tumbling down the stone steps.

Hickson grit his teeth as his kin was badly grazed against the steps, they landed in an interlocked pile, he swiftly booted the skeleton, forcing the ghost off of him. "Stop chasing me damn it, I just want to send you to the other side." He growled out in irritation.

"I won't pass on, I can't, I refuse, we're not finished yet!" The ghost declared, slowly rising into the air once again.

"We've got nothing to finish!" Hickson yelled back, continuing to flee, running from the church and through the surrounding graveyard, weaving among the gravestones and tombs, heading towards the exit.

"LIES!" Shrieked the ghost, flying after him. "I won't say that you forgot!" Its supernatural power flaring dangerously, almost like a demonic being. At that moment Hickson paused mid-step as he felt the ground beneath him wriggle and writhe. A mistake. The ground burst open, and he narrowly avoided being grabbed by a bony hand that came from beneath the grass and earth, its flesh rotten, bones exposed, wriggling maggots hanging from its digits.

"Just how strong is the obsession that created this ghost that it can animate the dead?" Hickson gasped, kicking the extending arm hard enough to rip its hand from the wrist, sending it soaring into the shadows of the night, disappearing from sight. "Damn, that's so fucking gross," he spat out as the rancid smell of the dead hit his nose with vengeance. The rest of the corpse began to force itself upwards through the earth.

A short distance away the ghost watched the commanded dead rise, ordering it to, "Take him down the aisle." Her voice was soft, she then turned her attentions to Hickson, her tone becoming harsh, "You're not leaving me again."

'Again?' thought Hickson as he slipped away from the corpse's one handed grasps. 'Who does she think I am?' He pondered as he charged magic to his hand, and striking the corpse with his palm, a glowing circle appeared on the creature, drawing itself into a spell, glowing with blue light, the animated corpse fell back, turning to powdered bone and flesh as it landed, with only a few surviving maggots writhing amidst the mixture. While it was only being controlled, the tattoos that made up the basic of his magic had decided they were similar enough to undead like zombies and dealt with it swiftly. Watching this unfold, the ghost nervously pulled back in surprise.

Having bested the corpse, he cautiously regarded the ghost, ready to run again. 'Whatever she's talking about must be related to the obsession that created it, I know she doesn't have any eyes, but a ghost doesn't need them...' that made him internally chuckle, 'Ghosts are made from leftovers of what the living leave behind, perhaps she doesn't remember who she's after, a strong but incomplete memory...?'

It was then he noticed the earth begin to warp and protrude upwards as more corpses tried to claw their way free. Not wishing to disturb the dead any further and lacking the means to combat an apparently non-evil but deeply rooted ghost, he quickly yelled in parting, "I'll see you tomorrow night, I'm ill prepared for the festivities!" and with that Hickson cleared the next twenty meters to the exit on swift steps before the rest of the dead could burst through the earth entirely and give chase. Reaching the dividing wall that separated the church from the nearby village, he leapt over it, rolled forward into a standing position and kept running, soon disappearing from sight.

At the ghost's unspoken order, the animated dead that verged on breaking through the soil, delved back downward into the dark. She stared into the darkness and the vanishing exorcist. "That's the first time a groom said that he would return," the ghost mused. "See you tomorrow then..." the voice little more than a whisper, she turned and floated back towards the church, humming a song which carried eerily across the night's wind.

Now certain that it wasn't following him, Hickson returned to his occult supply store, or rather the nearest shop front that was magically linked to its true location nearly a world away. Pushing the random door open, he was transported instantly as his first step landed on the aged wood floor, and even though it was the early hours of the morning, his store was still busy with customers, mostly occult fans buying themed merchandise, while separated by a dividing barrier, symbolised by a strip down the middle of the store, were the demon shoppers as well.

The divide acted more for the demons safety than the humans, as church trained exorcists also frequently brought his wares. People without magic or the sight couldn't see beyond the dividing strip, and merely saw a wall, but the exorcists could and would attack them if not for his barrier. If you were a customer there was no discrimination, no matter what you were. Inside his store, Hickson was completely neutral with the strife between heaven and hell.

The demons and exorcists would occasionally shout abuse at each other, but mostly ignored their opposites. On the plus side they paid well, and often supplied him in return with blessed items that he couldn't make himself. They also used to supply him with holy water, but as one of his friends was part angel, he could now get his tap water turned into holy water in exchange for dinner, it was very convenient.

As he passed through the store, heading for the stairs at the back, leading upwards to the second floor where he lived, he passed by his customers, who largely ignored his presence, save to look at him when he first entered, though a few gave him a brief greeting as he walked by. Near the base of the stairs was a single cashier point, where one of his long term employees, Orcsan was currently working, looking after the store in his absence.

Orcsan was like many of his customers, a demon. Not the monsters from hell you here about in church or horror fiction. The term 'demon' refers to beings who were descended from the true devils, but also had human in their ancestry, as such they were far less dangerous than their parents, but still very powerful in terms of brute strength or magical ability. Because of their physical differences they were hunted by humans in the past and now lived in communities and cities protected by magic so that most people didn't even know they existed.

Orcsan was largely human in appearance, save for a third eye and their unusual colouration, she had the appearance of being in her fifties, a sour matronly woman, but like Hickson she was far older than she appeared. As she heard the creak of the wooden flooring, she glanced up with a scowl, "You're late."

"I'm not in the mood right now, I've already wasted my evening," Hickson muttered back, massaging his temples. She did good work, but was ever grating.

Orcsan smiled with a hint of a smirk, "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea, the ghost they sent me to exorcise didn't qualify as an evil entity even though it was violent and deeply rooted, so my evil banishment spell inside my tattoos didn't work, and unfortunately I didn't bring any brushes or ink to make up something that could, ended up having to run for it." Hickson complained, exasperated with himself. This wasn't the first time he had messed up on a small job from lack of preparation.

"So not an evil spirit huh?" Orcsan repeated, "In that case, are you going to drop the job?"

"Of course not." He replied. "I just need to research a little for a magic seal that can trap and destroy a ghost, regardless of what kind it is. I'll research it tomorrow morning and get this settled that evening."

"Wouldn't it be better to figure out the circumstances that created it and help it cross over peacefully instead.?" suggested Orcsan, "We non-humans aren't all evil, you know." Her tone reproachful, Hickson could be too heavy handed when handling exorcisms or fighting demons/devils, he viewed any target as something to be simply eliminated in order to be paid. But it wasn't always that simple. But when on the job, he didn't really value other life. "You don't have to destroy everything." She reminded him.

"You didn't feel the strength of the obsession, it was seriously scary, and it animated the dead in the graveyard...and yeah, I didn't mean to imply anything, sorry." He paused, realising her implication.

"It's fine," she replied, "But if the ghost is that strong, then the whatever circumstances created it was probably a major incident, go talk to the council and see if there were any murders or something at the church, or look up old newspaper articles and the like, use your brain a little and see if you can get the ghost to cross over peacefully."

Hickson regarded his demonic colleague, it was clear she would make things difficult if he didn't at least try, sighing in defeat, he replied, "Okay, I'll see if I can learn the ghost's identity and any traumas surrounding their death."

"Good." Orcsan replied, nodding with a small smile. Neutral or good spirits deserved some consideration when being made to pass on from this world. Just as demons deserved from humans.

"But!" Hickson interjected, "I want **you** to get my sealing equipment sorted out for trap and banishment in case I can't turn up any useful information for your preferred ending."

Orcsan's smile dipped somewhat, but she replied, "Fine! But no slacking off on purpose so you can favour your lazy violent methods."

"I'll be good," he promised. "Well I'm off to bed."

"Good night, slacker." She grunted.

"I am the boss, you know," he complained as he ascended the stairs, only to duck and flee the next moment, as she began hurling merchandise up at him.

Gaining access to the town records the following morning had proven difficult as he lacked the authorisation to go fiddling through their paperwork, and the person who had hired him was taking the day off. Given his unconventional appearance, he was denied entry, so he made use of the nearby library's computers instead, and began searching online for any newsfeeds or discussion/topic threads relating to the church, any special occasions, or tragic occurrences in recent memory.

The library itself also had scans of local newspapers, going back quite a number of years, even coping over the far older editions, using the internet he would pull up the dates of any likely incidents and cross reference it with the newspaper scans for more in depth information as anything major would likely make the local paper at the very least.

As he moved his search closer to the present, he could also look up any names mentioned on social media as many did in-depth descriptions of any events they attended, typically with a camera phone or tablet device in hand. Though it wasn't until he looked up incidents as recent as ten years ago that he found a likely candidate for the ghost's identity, relating to a murder at the church, when in the midst of a wedding service, the bride was murdered by what was later revealed to be a jealous ex.

It seemed to click with his intuition, and he began a background check of both the bride and groom, there wasn't much on the bride, save for a few photos, as social media at that point had been very prevalent, however did find out that the husband had remarried in that same church a year later. "Ouch!" Hickson laughed half-mockingly, "Talk about moving onto new love quickly."

He clicked through a few more articles and links, in particular interviews with the deceased's family, reading through them, it soon became apparent how much the wedding had meant to her based upon her family's comments. "Certainly more that hubby did," he commented idly. "Even marrying in the same place...!" It hit him like a bolt of lightning, a sharp realisation. Hickson began to laugh into palm, thoroughly creeping out those around him. He couldn't be certain yet, but if she was the ghost then it all made sense, a traumatic death, further trauma after death, bound in the only place that she sought her future, but having to watch unseen as the man she loved married another, forever unable to complete her own wedding ceremony with him. Yes, it would be possible to create a ghost with such as strong obsession to remain in this world under such a scenario.

Perhaps her haunting was an attempt to find a replacement, only men had reported sightings of the skeletal ghost. He would have to ask her tonight, but first he had some preparations to make.

Orcsan had begrudgingly agreed with his plan, for a woman with such a stern visage, she was such as softy. But she had quickly located and drawn up the design for an all-purpose banishment seal, and the magic infused ink he would require to draw it in the event that his assumption regarding the ghost's identity proved incorrect, he would be able to settle the matter tonight, one way or another. It was a matter of profit, a haunting where nobody had been killed, unfortunately didn't pay particularly well, so why invest too much time? Curse breaking and defeating devils, that's where the money was, though he needed his partner in crime for those. Too dangerous otherwise.

Before night fell, as the sun was on the verge of setting, casting an orange glow to the sky, many of the local villagers and passing cars would see on the outskirts of the old church, a bald man in a black suit, moving about the perimeter of the church's walls, inking the surfaces with magical seals, which with his skills would join together to form a massive field spell that would destroy all spirits within. Whether he needed it however remained to be seen. Putting away his equipment in an old rucksack, which he hid in a nearby bush, he vaulted the walls to make his final preparations for 'plan A' within the church itself. Hopefully the marionette dead would leave him be as he passed the many graves.

The moon's light spread out amidst the scattered yet glittering stars. Night had come. In a grave, mostly hidden by overhanging trees, something stirred. A promise had been made to meet again. The earth rippled back and from it floated a ghost wrapped around a dead woman's skull and torso. She could sense that man's strange magic lingering in the air, he was here. Would it be tonight or yet another disappointment? Resolve firm, the ghost floated towards the church.

"This is?" Had she eyes, they would have widened at the interior change, everything had been cleaned and swept, candles lined the corridors, creating a subtly pleasant atmosphere. Bemused the ghost floated down, the corridor opened out to the pews and alter at the furthest end, where she had planned to be married before. The once scattered piles of pews and been neatly returned to the correct place, the floors and alter had all been cleaned, as for the building equipment the builders had left behind had been hidden in a corner and beneath a sheet. What was going on?

"Good evening, Clarissa," greeted Hickson, stepping out with a bouquet of roses in hand. The ghost gasped upon hearing her mortal name. How long had it been since she had heard it spoken aloud?

"How did you know?"

"I looked it up, I know what happened," he informed her with false confidence, while internally relieved, 'Good, so I got it right...'

"What's all this?" Clarissa asked.

"Your wedding of course, that's what you've been waiting for, isn't it?" He asked, prompting. "What's been keeping you in this realm?"

Clarissa was rooted to the spot, all the others she had sought as an emergency replacement, had simply screamed and fled, could this be it? The single thing trapping her in the mortal world, could she finally be free? Hickson surprised her again by placing a wedding a veil on her skull.

"There you go," he said, "Unfortunately I was unable to get a dress with so little time," he added, keeping a smile firmly in place, the true reason being that they were bloody expensive, he had asked in Orcsan had one, she had doubled over laughing to his request, Christianity hadn't existed when she had picked her mate, and by extension that religion's style of ceremonial garb, and Hickson was sure as hell not going to buy one, it would wipe out his profits, a simple haunting didn't **that** pay much.

Clarissa seemed pleased however as she twirled about with her veil as it trailed prettily behind her. 'Well at least she likes it.' Hickson thought.

"Seeing as I lack hands, how do you suppose I hold them?" Clarissa queried Hickson when she returned her attention to the bald exorcist and the roses he held.

"Well..." Hickson hesitated, he didn't have any string or tape to hand, and he had a feeling that getting this as close to the real thing was the safe decision. But how to get her to hold the bouquets as it was only a skull and torso...with an empty ribcage. 'Of course!' He realised he could make a vase of sorts from her ribcage. Now if only that didn't sound like the lines of a deranged serial killer. Under these very unique circumstances, it was acceptable. "Here, I have an idea." He said, motioning her closer.

"Oh?" she said as Hickson began to slide roses through the gaps in her ribs to create a messy bouquet of roses. When he was finished, she glided to a nearby mirror, she giggled in delight. "Oh I love it!" she cried. "How thoughtful of you..." She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't even know you name yet!"

Now that made him genuinely chuckle, it was rather ridiculous that they had yet to exchange names, even if he was merely 'playing' a role. "It's a pleasure to meet you, the names John Hickson, I run a humble occult supplies store called the 'Demon Workshop'." He informed her, "I also engage in a little exorcist work."

"That would be how you dealt with the others," noted Clarissa, "An exorcist huh? No matter I suppose, if not for that reason, we wouldn't have met." She replied dismissively, her thoughts turning to how John had handled the dead she had commanded to give chase, Once a group of silly people in cloaks had tried to force her from this place with crosses and chants, she had easily chased them off with the many animated dead she had access, but Hickson however in comparison had genuine power, magical energy constantly humming around him. Again, it didn't matter. "Though you already know it, I'll return the gesture, my name is Clarissa Magnolia...I'm...I" She paused, her memory drawing a blank, save for faint recollections, "I don't remember anymore?" Her skull tilted to the side with a loud click, puzzled by her incompleteness.

'Of course,' thought Hickson, 'Ghosts are just left of spiritual energy, bound by a strong emotion or desire relating to their death, all that remains, all that binds her identity is the unfulfilled desire to get married, the dream day she was denied by her death.

"I-I..." she mumbled.

But Hickson quickly distracted her from introspection, pulling her close into an embrace, being careful not to show on his face what he thought of the thick stench of death that hovered about her remains. "It's okay," he whispered. "Let's get going, shall we?"

"Where?" she asked.

"Down the aisle of course, it's just the two of us, but we'll manage anyhow," Hickson stated, reaching into his pocket, flicking the switch on a tiny remote, and their surroundings were filled with an electric recording of a traditional wedding march song. "Shall we?"

One hand awkwardly interlocking with a protruding shoulder nub as an alternative to linked arms, they proceeded slowly down the aisle in time to the rhythm of the song, and though there was no priest or vicar waiting for them, it didn't matter though, Clarissa was simply happy this day had come, and Hickson had watched enough TV shows to recall the vows that would be exchanged. Reaching the end, he flicked the remote in his pocket again, and the music ceased, now standing before a non-existing congregation.

"Well let's get started, shall we?" He prompted.

"Yes. Thank you."

"I, John Hickson..."

"I, Clarissa Magnolia..."

They then proceeded to say the traditional vows, and then came the moment that Hickson had not considered, 'You may kiss the bride' and as she moved closer towards him, head jutted forward, Hickson realised that when she had attacked him the previous night, that lunging motion had been attempt to kiss him. Nervously swallowing, keeping his lips tightly pressed, he gently kissed the skull's teeth, given the lack of lips. He narrowly kept the bile down, thankfully there was no rotting flesh or maggots on that part of the skeleton.

As they parted, Clarissa began to glow, particles of light drifting upwards and vanishing, and she too began to disappear, "And so I pronounce you man and wife," she whispered, and for a split second Hickson saw a short bubbly woman, and then both that vision and the ghost were gone. The skeleton she left behind crumbled into dust, and a very faint whisper of _"Thank you..."_

"You're welcome," he replied, and without looking back, he grabbed his equipment and exited the church. He paused to throw up a little in nearby bush, why couldn't she have been a regular ghost, why wear her remains? "I'm definitely charging extra for this," Hickson muttered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "Next time I'll be fully stocked so I don't have to deal with this kind of crap."

"What about consummating our union?" whispered a woman's voice in his ear. With a panicked shriek of absolute dread, he span, tumbled, and landed heavily on his rear. Looking up he saw Orcsan, who watched him with mischievous eyes. "The look on your face!" She laughed.

"Fuck you, that's is not cool...Wait, how long have you been here?" Hickson demanded, going from scared, to angry, to concerned, very quickly.

Orcsan merely held up one of his recording devices he'd brought the previous night and said, "Long enough."

Mouth gaping, Hickson yelled out after Orcsan as she turned and left, "Ooooh! Fuck you!"

"You're covering the night shifts for awhile, dearie," she called back, waving the camera mockingly. "I think I'll take some vacation time soon as well."

"Yes Ma'am," the exorcist sighed in defeat.

 **END**

 ** _Thanks for reading this story, while this oneshot is mostly about Hickson, it's set in the Grey Faction world and the partner they make reference to is a minor character from the original book. Orcsan herself appears in the official Grey Faction 2._**


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